


Transitions: Last Thoughts

by AnnaMouse



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Family, Loss, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaMouse/pseuds/AnnaMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard's life flashes before her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transitions: Last Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a follow-on piece to Transitions. I recommend you read that piece first.
> 
> SPOILER ALERT: This foreword contains spoilers for Transitions.
> 
> Foreword:  
> I thought this piece deserved an introduction as it is not a conventional follow-on work. This piece does not constitute a retcon, nor is it an ‘alternate ‘ending’ to Transitions. This piece’s premise is based on the colloquialism ‘my whole life flashed before my eyes’, usually associated with near-death experiences. The ‘events’ portrayed in the following piece are a ‘what could have been’ life that flashes through Victoria Shepard’s mind in the time between her leaping from the top of Little Tahoma and her impacting the rocks below.
> 
> PS – Stay tuned, there are more upbeat works on the way… 
> 
> Dedication:  
> For all those who battle adversity despite the odds, and those who love them.

_She heard a soft, distant, voice, “…this rough beast’s time has come round.”  A gentle breeze wafted through her hair._

_*****_

Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Victoria Shepard, Alliance Navy, [Retired], hero of the Reaper War, beloved wife, and adored _father_ of four amazing children, basked her face in the warm Thessian sunlight.  Victoria half laid half sat in her mobility chair on the veranda overlooking the Matriarch Benezia’s gardens.  She liked to wheel out here in the afternoons when the sun hung low in the sky.  The reddening horizon served as a beautiful counterpoint to the flower beds. 

Victoria _felt_ her mate silently approach from behind her.  Shepard was no longer capable of turning her head, but her senses were still as sharp as the day she completed N7 School; nearly a century ago.

“Another beautiful day.  Isn’t it?” asked Victoria.

Liara, ageless and graceful, leaned over Shepard’s mobility chair and wrapped her arms around Shepard’s gaunt shoulders.  She kissed Victoria on the temple and replied, “Yes, beloved.”  She rubbed her cheek against Victoria’s, “Another beautiful day.”

It had started at their 80th wedding anniversary party.  Victoria was playing fetch with Hannah’s boyfriend’s dog.  She’d been dating a young man from the Alliance Consulate who had brought his Border Collie with him from Earth.  Shepard seemed to be having trouble throwing the ball.  Her coordination was less than normal, and her throwing arm seemed to be a little weaker than usual.

It progressed gradually, but steadily, from there.  Shepard became clumsy.  She suffered from muscle spasms and cramps.  Her muscled triathlete’s physique began wasting.  Outdoor activities became difficult; she became unable to hike with her daughters.  Even making love to Liara became physically challenging; a noticeable departure from the energetic love life they’d both enjoyed for nearly a century.

The doctors couldn’t figure it out at first.  Most hypothesized that her Cerberus implants were beginning to degrade.  Perhaps it was some unique aspect of the Lazarus Project that was to blame.  Shepard was still regarded as something between a medical miracle and a mystery.  After a surreptitious visit from Miranda Lawson, still youthful in appearance but now sporting silken grey hair, they knew for sure. 

The Lazarus Project had succeeded in bringing Victoria Shepard back from the dead.  It had given the galaxy the hero it needed, and given Victoria over 80 years with her beloved and their family.  It would also, unfortunately, take her from them.  Nerve tissue in contact with her implants was breaking down.  The damage was spreading throughout her nervous system.  The doctors called it “ _atypical_ amyotrophic lateral sclerosis”.  There had not been a documented case of ALS in nearly fifty years, and Shepard wasn’t responding to _any_ of the normal treatments.  They gave her only a few years to live.  Victoria’s doctor had actually recommended euthanasia, but neither Shepard nor Liara were having any of that.  All that Victoria ever was still existed, intact and whole, within her rapidly disintegrating body, and they wanted what time they had left together.  Besides, the medical sisters at the university hospital all volunteered to help care for her; Shepard’s condition would not be a burden on her family.

Victoria had been confined to her mobility chair for nearly six months.  She was almost completely paralyzed.  Breathing was difficult, though they had taken steps to keep it from becoming uncomfortable.  They’d decided to suppress a few select autonomic functions.  When her diaphragm finally gave out there would be no violent bucking and struggling for breath as the CO2 in her blood increased.  She would merely fade out, and pass on. 

Even the bond was hard, though, thankfully, not impossible to form between her and Liara.  The only other break she had caught was that she could still speak.  It had given her the chance to say her goodbyes.  She didn’t have much time.

*****

“Are you still glad I didn’t do it?” asked Victoria.

Liara squeezed Victoria’s shoulders, “Of course!  Why would you even ask that?”

“Wouldn’t mourning a 23 year relationship hurt less than mourning 85 years?”

Liara choked back a tear, “All I care about is the time I have with you, not the time I won’t.”

“Even with what happened to little Kelly?”

“That was no one’s fault.  You did what you could, my love.”

Their fifth and youngest daughter Kelly, named for their deceased friend Kelly Chambers, had refused to live with the hand that fate had dealt her.  A day after learning that she was sufficiently high on the Ardat-Yakshi spectrum to be confined for the rest of her life she had taken off.  She wouldn’t kill anyone, she was no _Morinth_ , but she wouldn’t be caged either.  Not even the loving assurances of Morinth’s own sisters that life at the retreat was peaceful and rewarding helped.  Her response was what the Matriarch in charge of the Ardat-Yakshi retreat called _suicide by Justicar._   Shepard had tried to find her, reason with her, rein her in, _anything_ to save her life.  But, in the end, Kelly chose her own path.  _She was only 18 years old!_  Victoria wept.

The Justicar who had murdered their daughter tried to explain, in her stoic superior way, that The Code was as just as it was clear; Kelly would need to live in the retreat, or she would need to die.  She had seemed ready to admonish the grieving parents as to some perceived failing in their parenting skills when Shepard had laid it on the line.  To her credit, she didn’t flinch when Shepard had told her to leave without another word or else she’d hunt down and annihilate what few Justicars still existed.  She had nodded respectfully, and left.  _There are some things that even Justicars cannot win against;_ Viking Vikki _could have made it sick._

“I miss our baby so much,” Victoria said with a tear seeping from her eye.

Liara squeezed her more tightly, “As do I, beloved.  But you know how much she loved us.”

Shepard had kept telling herself that.  Through her childhood Kelly had been an active and joyful member of the family.  She looked forward to spending time with her parents and with her older sisters when they came back home to visit.  There had been no sign that anything was wrong until after her puberty.  They had had such a fight the night before she ran away and was killed; Kelly blamed her and Liara for her condition.  Shepard desperately tried to convince herself that it was just emotions talking, that they would have been able to reconcile if things had just not ended the way they did.

All Victoria could manage was a slight shrug of the shoulders; it was a monumental effort which spoke volumes.  “At least Aethyta came around,” she sighed.  Their fourth daughter, named for Liara’s late _father_ , had stormed out of her parents’ lives after the death of her younger sister.  Aethyta had always been a malcontent, much like her namesake.  She blamed everything that happened to her baby sister on her parents.  Objectively, Shepard could understand, even forgive.  Aethyta loved her sister so much; her loss was such a trauma.  She needed to lash out at _something._ Shepard and Liara just happened to be the most convenient targets.

When Victoria was first diagnosed her greatest fear was that she would die without reconciling with Aethyta.  Fortunately, that proved not to be the case.  Samara, their oldest daughter, reached out to Aethyta.  Apparently those decades as an acolyte at the temple of the goddess Athame had afforded their oldest daughter with some counseling skills; Aethyta came around. 

Shepard remembered Aethyta standing in the doorway, soaked from pouring rain, stammering on about how sorry she was and how much she missed all of them.  It seemed Victoria’s daughter had nearly as much pent up regret as her parents.  None of it mattered.  They were together again, _at least for a little while_.  Aethyta collapsed next to her _father’s_ mobility chair.  She had placed her head in Victoria’s lap.  Shepard had jerkily leaned forward in her chair and wrapped her severely atrophied arms around her daughter’s shoulders.  Shepard had wept.  It was so good to see her daughter again.

Samara was another source of happiness and joy for Shepard.  After her misadventure in New Orleans she had had a complete change of heart.  Sam said she still respected and was grateful for what her parents had done during the war, but she wanted to walk a path of peaceful serenity.  Shepard’s family had never been spiritual, Samara’s choice in vocation was unexpected, but Shepard was happy she had found her own way.

Hannah, Shepard’s second oldest, however, _did_ want to follow in her _father’s_ footsteps.  At least, though, she was going about it in a much more rational way than her older sister.  Hannah had dumped the man from the consulate and entered huntress training shortly after Victoria’s diagnosis.  Shepard had hoped none of her daughters would choose to become soldiers, but she was glad Hannah was doing it _right_.  Victoria had even given Hannah her old N7 combat armor, minus the N7 emblem which had to be pried off according to regulations.  She was too weak to help show her how to dress in it, but she had told her the secret to wearing it; _lots of baby powder_.  She had also told Hanna to be grateful that Asari didn’t have body hair; she wouldn’t have to suffer through the painful permanent depilation of everything below the neck.  In a show of support, Samara gave Hannah her namesake’s golden gorget.

Hannah’s twin Benezia, however, was the wild card.  She was all over the map.  Benezia had all the varied talents as her older sister Samara, the wisdom of her namesake, and the drive and determination of her parents.  She was also a free spirit, flitting from one project or vocation to another seemingly at random.  Shepard didn’t know what Benezia would make of her life, but she was certain it would be amazing.

*****

Shepard sighed deeply.  It was becoming more difficult to breathe. 

_It won’t be long now._  

The room began to gray.  “I love you very much,” Shepard heard herself say in a soft faltering voice. 

Liara didn’t respond with words.  She took Shepard’s face in her hands and kissed her.  The last thing Shepard saw before she died was her beloved’s blue-within-blue eyes and her smile. 

*****

A warm breeze blew past her pale white face and billowed through her fire-red hair. 

_A long life of love and peace, it was best this way._

Victoria Shepard, hero, wife, _matriarch_ of a large family, died with a smile on her face.


End file.
